


From the Depths of Hell

by Luthienberen



Category: Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson (TV Russia)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 05:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: He was running for his life. Running and running, breath clawing through his lungs, and he was choking as the fog filled his chest and blurred his vision - or was those tears? Sir Henry could no longer tell.





	From the Depths of Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [watsons_woes 2019 Spooktacular fest](https://watsons-woes.dreamwidth.org/1992966.html). Spooktacular Prompt Week 1 - **A Haunting Thought:** Whether it's a memory, an idea, or just something that won't get out of a character's head, have something mental haunt a character.

* * *

_He was running for his life. Running and running, breath clawing through his lungs, and he was choking as the fog filled his chest and blurred his vision - or was those tears? Sir Henry could no longer tell. _

_ His heart beat faster and faster, striving to propel him faster across the treacherous terrain. Surely his heart would burst if he continued apace? Silence behind him apart from the footfalls of...of...of...  
_

_ Risking a glance back he saw the same horror: a ghostly disembodied hound bounding over the pitch black moor, glaring through the night and fog as a hellish vision straight from his family’s grim fairy tale. _

_ Where was Holmes and Watson? Dr Mortimer? Betrayed, angry and terrified, Sir Henry turned as he felt the hot breath of the hound. Gunfire roared or was that the hound? Then all was pain, blood and screams; both his and the hound’s.  
_

_ A human voice floated through his all too real flesh and blood family ghost and as Sir Henry sank into oblivion the same voice raised him up. _

“Sir Henry!” A warm hand on his shoulder and an earnest low voice dragged Sir Henry from his nightmare.

Sir Henry blinked and the moor with its fog and ghosts fell away. Doctor Watson was half on the bed beside him, his right hand gripping his left shoulder firmly but not painfully. In the dim candlelight Sir Henry saw the pallid expression, the shadows under the eyes.

Yet the same friendly smile he had been graced with in the past now appeared.

“You had a nightmare Sir Henry.”

“Yes.” What else could he say to such a nonsensical statement?

Sensing his aggravation the doctor retreated to stand by the window. The curtains were drawn against the night for which Sir Henry was grateful. Glancing away from Watson’s patient demeanour, Sir Henry saw Doctor Mortimer. His friend was curled up in a large armchair under a few blankets. The fire near him filled the room with warmth, banishing the hound for the present.

“He refused to leave after assisting me in cleaning you up,” remarked Watson.

Sir Henry did not pull his gaze from Mortimer.

“A good friend,” he said instead, wincing at his rasping voice. Footsteps and a glass of warm water was placed to his lips. He drank eagerly and allowed Watson to prop himself up on a few pillows. The strong arms retreated and Sir Henry caught mournful eyes staring at him.

“I am sorry Sir Henry. Holmes deemed it necessary that you did not know, he feared you would give the game away otherwise.”

Sighing, Watson rubbed a hand through his hair, messing up his hair even more. “We did not expect to be so shocked by the hound’s appearance. A demon from hell indeed.”

A bit of forgiveness wriggled into Sir Henry’s heart. To be frank, his friendly disposition wouldn’t allow him to hold a grudge anyway, so Sir Henry shrugged and winced at sore muscles and the claw marks that burned.

“I suppose Holmes was right. At least we were both surprised!”

Watson smiled wanly at him. “Thank you Sir Henry. Is there anything I can do?”

Sir Henry looked over at Mortimer. “Is he..?”

“Doctor Mortimer is well, merely tired and strained from the experience as well. He says he’ll take you both on a sea voyage to forget and heal.”

Sir Henry liked the sound of that. No moors, fogs or devious pretty women and most especially, no family ghosts. Only the sea and the countries he and Doctor Mortimer would visit together. He liked the sound of that.

Rolling his head back on the luxurious pillow, Sir Henry smiled at Watson.

“Good idea.”

He wished to say more, but he was greatly fatigued from the events and even as he attempted to speak - to confirm that he couldn’t wait to hear Mortimer’s idea from his friend’s mouth - his eyelids grew so heavy that he fought to keep them open.

“Sleep,” whispered Watson softly and affectionately - a good doctor as well as a brave one.

“Keep fog out…"

Watson understood his mumbled plea, soothing him as he tucked him back under the covers.

“The window is barred and the curtains drawn. The hound is banished. Do not let the family ghost haunt your sleep anymore tonight Sir Henry. Mortimer and I are here.”

Relieved by the promise, Sir Henry slipped back into the world of dreams, reprieved from his haunting nightmares for now.


End file.
